Wale - Cee-Lo lyrics

Published

0 257 0

Wale - Cee-Lo lyrics

I'll shoot a n***a in some Cee-Lo I'll put your wifey in a trio And I can't lie, it stroked my ego And they done got me back in beast mode I got some shooters and they ain't single I'm out the country in my T-coat And these b**hes don't speak no Englo All they wanna know is the lingo [Future] In the Matrix all like I'm Neo I make movies like Al Pacino I can wrap a girl like burritos I go hella hard for them c-notes They ain't never seen what we did, n***a You can't get fingerprints off these triggers I'm a guapaholic, I'm money-drunk d**h-defying, I'm livin' like Avatar I done went to another planet See my pockets they on gigantic I take off like a rocket in Paris I f** b**hes that don't mind sharin' [Hook] [Wale] They say Wale dope They gon' say what they say, never to my face, no And I'm runnin' out of space to put all of my favorite clothes Took a n***a's favorite shoes – took a n***a's favorite store I call the folk that made ‘em, foreign These ladies trippin' … ‘Cause I buck a lot but I don't be datin' none of ‘em And I roll with n***as, go-to n***as, know they ain't as friendly And all my pieces wide receivers they all eighty somethin' Wale, though… And I make your ladies do my say-so I'm just a n***a on the grind tryna make moves Shine like a G, though Rhyme bully, my mob goodie, shout-out to Cee-Lo [Hook] [Ludacris] Okay, my name is Ludacris and beast mode is what I'm known for I'm what they need to get Barack Obama on the phone for Illegal alien – workin' like a Mexican Bought a Bugatti and joined forces with the Decepticons Got so many styles that I don't even know what I'mma do But I be k**in' every verse Make it worth your while, Cadillac style But I'll put your favorite rapper in a hearse Throw him in the grave and write “p**y” on his tombstone Kidnap his family, make ‘em listen to this new song DJ Screamin'- partners triple-beamin' Eight-figure n***a, b**hes fightin' for my semen Sparta, 300, Leonidas to you f** boys Shootin' three dice with three dykes – what's good, boys?